Earlier today I was sharing some heart-felt honesty with a kindly neighbour, when mid-way through the conversation, this normally polite and charming older lady interrupts me with a raised hand and says… ‘For God’s sake get a grip and stop being so chicken hearted!’
Ouch! I was nearly poleaxed. That really hurt! But then the truth often does.
When I got over being run through by this painfully sharp sword of honesty, I had to admit she had a point. I spend way too much time talking about the reasons why I cannot make a living from my writing, and no time at all doing something about it. I used to earn money from it, so there is no excuse why I cannot do it again. At one time I had a weekly column in a newspaper for crying out loud! I wrote about all kinds of things, but mostly about relationships and what makes people tick. I love pondering on what causes one person go off like a firework, while another remains peaceful and unperturbed. It is the variety of thoughts and beliefs we hold that makes us all so diverse and interesting.
My neighbour, for instance, deals with life very differently from me. She could not understand my apathy and doubt about ‘putting myself out there’. In her world holding back simply doesn’t exist. To her it is nothing short of insane to sit on your stump and wait for abundance to fall into your lap. ‘Get a grip!’ she said, and even though I can bang on about ‘internalising my critical parent’ and ‘struggling to support my adapted inner child’ , when push comes to shove – she’s right.
My trouble is I over-think. If I can complicate it, I will. Why find a hundred reasons for something not happening if you can find a hundred and one. They say thoughts become things, but I can do better – thoughts can also become no things. I’ve been thinking for years… In my neighbour’s world, if you’ve run out of milk, get off your backside and find a cow.
It’s not the writing that worries me – that bit I can do – so it must be the fear of being rejected…
Oh Boo Hoo!
Go and lay your golden egg Mya… You might break one or two, but in the end you’ll crack it.
Cluck, cluck, cluck… 🙂